Waking Up in Vegas
by nicely-shelbs
Summary: Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin find themselves living a cliché after a wild night in Las Vegas ends up in an 'I do.' After a judge rules that they must remain married for six months before they will be granted a divorce, sparks will fly between Mr. and Mrs. Blake. Does what happens in Vegas, really stay in Vegas?
1. The Total Bore & The Manwhore

**DISCLAIMER**: I neither own _The 100_ nor the characters. They are the property of Jason Rothenberg and The CW. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!

**A/N**: So this is my first time ever posting on this site, but I hope you don't count me out and stick around to read this probably long (but hopefully good) multi-chapter. If you've watched the movie _What Happens in Vegas_, you're thinking hmm that plot sounds familiar. But I promise you, the main premise is all I borrowed from that film...this is all Bellarke, all the time with a sprinkle of Raven/Murphy and Octavia/Lincoln on the side. Buckle up, it's gonna be a bumpy ride! [Unless you're named Finn Collins, because he's too cool for seatbelts...or monogamy.]

* * *

**Waking Up in Vegas**

**Chapter One: The Total Bore &amp; The Manwhore**

* * *

Clarke Griffin's sneakers squeaked as she strolled down a hallway with a wet floor sign. She was a surgical resident at Ark Hospital, she had three more years left of residency before she would become an attending general surgeon, meaning she would no longer have to be supervised and would take home a much bigger paycheck. She had always been destined to become a physician; it was in her blood after all. Her mother, Abigail Griffin, was the Chief of Surgery at the hospital, which meant that she had to work harder than anybody else so that people wouldn't think she was just some privileged princess. The truth was, she had never been that close with her mother, she was her father's daughter and after his death, the two seemed to forget how to interact with each other without discussing medicine. Though Clarke would never admit it even to herself, a small part of her resented her mother for not being able to save her father, for being unable to cure him of the cancer that killed him. Heading into the locker room, she let out a sigh at the prospect of finally going back to her apartment. Arriving at the hospital at six that morning, it was now a full twelve hours later. Her workday had been very hectic, two new patients had been added to her caseload and she had a lengthy surgery under the critical eye of her attending, Jackson. Changing out of her blue scrubs and white lab coat into some comfortable sweats, she jumped when a locker slammed next to her and pulled her from her thoughts.

A tall, skinny guy with a goofy grin entered her field of vision, followed by a shorter Asian man with long hair. They were fellow residents named Jasper and Monty; the two doctors had a serious bromance and you would never find one without the other. "Hey Clarke," Jasper beamed at her. "How was your day?"

Clarke let out a breath and shrugged in response. "Long and tiring, but hey we're saving lives so it's all worth it, right?" She couldn't help but smile back at them; they were just so happy-go-lucky all the time.

Monty chuckled. "Yeah Jasper and I were just talking about what it takes to be a happy resident. You have to dream about the colon and pancreas, and find abscesses fascinating."

She laughed outwardly at that. "Sounds about right. But if you guys are dreaming about organs, you may be drinking too much."

Jasper and Monty looked at each other and giggled simultaneously. "It's not the moonshine, it's the herbs...grown purely for medicinal reasons of course."

Rolling her eyes at their antics, Clarke threw her bag over her shoulder and waltzed out of the changing area, walking in the direction of the exit.

* * *

"Vegas? You're a funny woman, Raven Reyes. I don't know why you're wasting your time as an engineer, you should be a comedian." Clarke let out a sarcastic laugh as she leaned back into the couch, tucking her feet underneath her as she grasped her wine glass.

"Come on, Clarke. Don't be such a drag, you know it's the perfect plan," her best friend Raven responded exasperatedly. The two had developed a friendship under the most unlikely of circumstances; they met after discovering that they shared a boyfriend. Raven had known Finn Collins since birth. He was the boy next door that became her only family growing up since her deadbeat mom was never around. Finn was the only guy that she had ever loved, but it became clear to her after finding out about Clarke that he didn't love her the way she deserved to be loved. After breaking it off with Finn, she asked Clarke if she wanted to get drunk with her, and the girls found themselves in the nearest bar toasting Finn Collins for being a 'two-timing son of a bitch' and a 'cheating bastard'...the rest was history.

"I'm definitely going to need more wine if you're being serious," Clarke stated, jumping up from her comfortable position on the couch and heading into the kitchen to grab another bottle of red. No matter how hectic their lives became, the two women had established a Thursday night tradition of drinking and discussion, often accompanied by take-out and movies. Popping the cork and allowing the bottle to breathe, she turned to see Raven leaning over the back of the couch with a determined look on her face.

"It's Vegas, land of debauchery and fun. You remember that, Clarke? Fun? Because I can't remember the last time we went out to have fun and I need this. I'm swamped at work because my new supervisor, Wick, is constantly on my ass about deadlines and Lord knows you need a break from saving lives every damn day. I say a vacation to the City of Lights is the perfect way for me to get my mojo back after Finn and for you to get laid," Raven deadpanned.

"Hey that's not fair," Clarke quickly defended herself, "you know I'm trying to prove my worth to Jackson and—" Raven cut her off, "and you won't stop with the long hours at the hospital until he treats you as the badass resident you are instead of the spoiled daughter of the Chief of Surgery he thinks you are...but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy a weekend in Vegas with your best friend and favorite person in existence," Raven concluded, really laying it on thick.

Clarke took a deep breath, taking in the hopeful look on Raven's face and damn it all if she wasn't right, Clarke spent the majority of her time at the hospital, only coming back to her apartment to sleep. She needed a weekend off, some time to unwind sounded very attractive at the moment. "What the hell? Let's go to Vegas!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

"Seriously? Dr. Griffin is going to leave her patients in the hands of Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and come to Vegas with me?" Raven hopped off the couch, jumping up and down in excitement.

"Well, when you put it like that...maybe I shouldn't, those two are known to show up hung-over from too much homemade moonshine." Clarke bit down on her bottom lip in worry, thinking of what trouble Jasper and Monty could get into during her absence.

"Nope it's already decided, Sin City here we come!" Raven yelled, snatching the freshly opened bottle of wine off the kitchen counter to refill her glass in celebration.

Clarke stole the bottle back from Raven, taking a giant swig of liquid courage to seal her decision. "Here's to Vegas!"

* * *

Bellamy Blake awoke to the loud ringing of his cellphone, he came to awareness with a jolt and an 'oh shit' as he realized the time on his alarm clock. It was Friday morning, and he had clearly overindulged the previous night in an attempt to get a head start on the weekend. He had slept in and was going to be late for work, if he didn't haul ass immediately. There was a naked chick draped across his chest, his occasional fuck buddy and a girl who lived in his building named Roma. He moved her off him somewhat roughly, but she didn't wake and proceeded to roll over with a light snore. Bellamy jumped into the shower, only giving himself five minutes to wash off his sins from the previous night and wake up fully. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he turned on the coffee pot and grabbed his clothes. He quickly tucked a white dress shirt into dark gray slacks, rolling the sleeves up around his elbows, and threaded a brown leather belt through his belt loops. He reached over to the chair beside him and pulled a navy tie into his hands, knotting and arranging the tie with precision. He turned back to the bed behind him and looked at the woman entangled in it. The brunette's long locks cascaded down her back and blended into the deep chocolate color of his comforter. Bellamy reached down and snatched her dress up off the floor, throwing it on the bed and shaking her awake. Roma rolled towards him as her eyes fluttered open, sitting up and stretching.

"Morning sex?" She questioned with a cheeky grin, already starting to reach for his belt buckle.

"You need to go," he said flatly as he attached his badge and holster to his belt.

"What?" She responded with a pout, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

"You need to leave, so get dressed and go." He tossed her panties at her and gave her a bored look.

"God, you're such a jerk," she grumbled as she hurriedly dressed.

"You know how this arrangement works. I don't do relationships or feelings, it's just sex."

He walked into the kitchen to pour his coffee into a travel mug, and she followed along behind him with a huff.

"Fuck you, Bellamy." She spat with venom.

"You already did, Roma." He responded with his signature smirk, as he slammed the door in her face. Grabbing his keys, he locked up his apartment and hightailed it to work.

* * *

Jogging through the precinct doors and flashing his badge to the uniform working the front desk, he cursed under his breath as he noticed the time...despite his attempts to hurry, he was fifteen minutes late and Captain Kane would not be happy. Detectives Miller and Monroe passed by, Miller sporting his trademark beanie and shooting him a sympathetic look. "Cap's looking for you man, good luck." Bellamy simply nodded in response, spotting his partner and best friend, John Murphy.

"Dammit Bellamy, I've been calling you all morning. I wanted to hear about that hot piece of ass neighbor before the briefing. But now Cap's probably going to kill you, so I'll never know what a good lay she is." Murphy grinned, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole." Bellamy shot back as he headed to Marcus Kane's office, preparing himself for another lecture from the bossman. His back was turned as Bellamy walked in, and he commanded him to take a seat before turning around.

"I really wish I could suspend you, Blake. You're impulsive and hotheaded, not to mention the fact that you show up late and miss briefings," he gave him a pointed look. "But you're the best damn detective I've got. You and Murphy close more cases than anyone else in this precinct." Kane paused to take a deep breath before continuing. "So, against my better judgment, I'm appointing you lead investigator for the new case. Murphy will fill you in on all the details, but it's high profile. The victim is some governor's son named Wells, Wells Jaha. You're a damn good leader, Blake, but I want you to take the weekend off to get your head in the game."

Surprise was written all over Bellamy's face, he thought Kane merely tolerated him on a good day. Standing up, he put his hand out for the man to shake. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."

The Captain shook his hand firmly. "Be back Monday, ready to work."

Leaving the office, he found Murphy waiting with an anxious look. "What happened? Am I getting a new partner?"

Bellamy just smirked in reply. "Far from it, he put me in charge of the Jaha case. Looks like you're my bitch now."

He laughed loudly as Murphy flipped him the bird. "Fuck you, man. I'm nobody's bitch. But I do have an idea on how to celebrate this weekend."

Bellamy lifted an inquisitive brow, "I'm listening."

Murphy's face turned sinister. "Vegas. Unlimited booze, bright lights, and loose women...Vegas."


	2. We're in Vegas, bitches!

**DISCLAIMER**: I neither own _The 100_ nor the characters. They are the property of Jason Rothenberg and The CW. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!

**A/N**: I just want to preface this with a shoutout to my fellow Bellarke shippers reading this! Thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews...y'all are awesome. Like seriously, the best. This is Part I of the Vegas shenanigans, the second half is much longer. Without further ado, here's chapter two!

* * *

**Waking Up in Vegas**

**Chapter Two: We're in Vegas, bitches!**

* * *

"Damn," Raven stated, letting out a low whistle in appreciation of their hotel room. Clarke nodded her head in agreement; everything was gold and seemed to shine in the fading light of the Vegas sun filtering in through the curtains. Dropping her luggage onto the plush carpet, Raven threw her body on the bed and propped herself up against the pillows. "I forget that you're a rich bitch sometimes, and I'm the poor friend."

Shaking her head in amusement, Clarke sat down on the floor and unzipped her suitcase. "Oh please, you make more than me. And this is all my mother's doing, she was surprisingly supportive of this trip."

Raven busied herself with pouring champagne into two flutes, from where a bottle sat in an iced bucket on a table next to a vase of orchids. "God bless that Abby Griffin, she's a good egg."

Clarke took the flute Raven offered her, sniffing and sipping the sparkling wine. "She has her moments. Now, before we plan our assault on The Strip, help me pick out my outfit." She set her glass down next to her, pulling out clothes from her bag.

"Red romper with nude heels?" Clarke asked Raven who was back on the bed with her bubbly and a critical eye.

"Your legs look great in that, but it doesn't show cleavage which is a must."

Clarke displayed a second option with a hopeful look. "Skinny jeans with a silk blouse?"

Raven drained what was left of her flute, "not dressy enough for a club...but wear that to dinner, it's hot."

Clarke rummaged around in her suitcase for a moment, before holding up more clothing. "Black and white jumpsuit?"

Moving from her spot to refill her glass with more champagne, Raven exasperatingly replied. "Clarke, I told you to burn that thing!"

Clarke sent her a sheepish look before presenting a final outfit option. "Orange dress with gold wedges?"

Raven returned to the bed as she considered the ensemble. "That back cutout is cute, but it's still too Sister Christian for Sin City."

Clarke lay down next to Raven with a prolonged sigh. "This is hopeless, can't I just wear my scrubs? I practically live in them anyways," she whined aloud.

"Now you listen here Clarke Griffin, that's enough with the defeatist attitude. I just so happen to be your fashionable fairy godmother and I come bearing gifts," Raven said with a flourish, as she hopped off the bed and grabbed something from her bag. "Ta-da!" she exclaimed with jazz hands, laying a white bustier dress and a pair of black stilettos next to Clarke. "I was going to give you this later as a thank you gift for coming to Vegas with me, but there is no time like the present."

Clarke jumped up and hugged her tightly in gratitude, "thank you so much, it's perfect."

Raven returned the embrace in kind, before taking out her own outfit for the night...leather pants, a crop top, and suede booties. "No thanks necessary. Just get your ass ready, we've got hearts to break and tailfeathers to shake."

* * *

_Meanwhile, in an elevator at the same hotel..._

* * *

"Man, I love Vegas," Bellamy declared as he pocketed a card with the phone number of a girl he had met in the lobby written on it with a heart and a 'call me'. He looked disheveled, his dark hair was tousled and bright lipstick was smeared on his cheek, courtesy of some frisky bridesmaids having a bachelorette party.

"Dude, you got her digits? I'm impressed, it looked like she might not be buying your bullshit for a minute there," Murphy said with a hiccup as he leaned back against the wall of the elevator for support and took a gulp of the oversized souvenir drink in his hand. The plastic cup contained a fruity cocktail mixture and was a yard in length; it was equally obnoxious as the pink feather boa he was wearing around his neck.

"It's hard to resist the Blake charm," Bellamy boasted as the elevator arrived at their floor, a loud ding sounding as the doors opened.

The hotel the two had chosen for their weekend in Vegas was a bit pricey, but growing up poor had taught Bellamy Blake how to stretch the value of a dollar and he had built up a decent-sized savings account for himself that he decided to dip into. Walking down the floor to find their hotel room, Murphy staggered in the hallway, occasionally stumbling into the wall, the pair had only been in Nevada for a matter of hours and he was already smashed. Locating their crash pad for the weekend, Bellamy reached into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved the room key. Opening the door with a click, he looked on with silent laughter as Murphy clumsily entered their hotel room, tripping over his own feet in the process and letting his duffle bag fall off his shoulder onto the floor with a loud thud.

"I told you not to buy that stupid souvenir drink, idiot...you're drunk off your ass," Bellamy chastised as he tossed his own bag to the side.

"No, I'm not," Murphy protested with a slight slur in his words, "just buzzed."

Bellamy busied himself with raiding the mini-bar before responding. "The vendors that sell those things use Everclear to save money...go take a shower and sober up, or you'll be passed out before you can get laid."

Murphy nodded in agreement and struggled in unwinding the feather boa from around his neck for a moment, before shuffling in the general direction of the bathroom. "Okay...but the question is, what are we doing tonight?" Murphy asked as he paused in the bathroom's open doorway.

"Whatever the hell we want!" Bellamy decreed, yelling the words passionately before downing some vodka from the mini-bar. "We're in Vegas, the sky is the fucking limit my friend."


	3. No Ragrets

**DISCLAIMER**: I neither own _The 100_ nor the characters. They are the property of Jason Rothenberg and The CW. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!

**A/N**: So I really should be getting ready for the Nickelback concert my sister is dragging me to tonight haha, but I just had to give you guys some more. I apologize in advance if you were expecting a play-by-play of their crazy night or some drunken Bellarke sexytimes this chapter...I decided to give you an overview instead and then some flashbacks later on in the story. Here's Part II of the Vegas shenanigans, featuring the meet cute, a rom-com staple.

* * *

**Waking Up in Vegas**

**Chapter Three: No Ragrets**

* * *

Clarke found herself sitting alone in an empty booth at a crowded nightclub. Designed to look as if the club was underground with a basement like feel, it was cleverly called Grounders. Raven had seemingly disappeared twenty minutes ago after leaving the booth to get them drinks at the bar, donning a red quilted jacket with her hair in its usual ponytail. Sighing audibly for the third time since arriving at the place, Clarke pulled out her phone to text Raven asking where the hell she was. _You better not have ditched me, Reyes! Chicks before dicks, remember?_ Placing her cell back in her bedazzled clutch, she made to stand up to go look for the girl in question, when a guy sat down opposite her in the booth. He had chocolate eyes, tan skin, broad shoulders, a dimpled chin, freckles, and was undeniably attractive. Dressed in dark jeans, a blue tee, and a sleek black sport coat, he exuded a confidence that was borderline arrogance in the way he smirked at her.

"Are you lost?" She queried, eyes blazing as she met his heated gaze. Clarke was never one to beat around the bush or play mind games, she was straightforward and honest to a fault.

"No, I think I'm in the right place for once, actually," he countered with a grin, running a hand through his bedhead hair. "You see, I was over there," he pointed in a vague direction over his shoulder, "and I couldn't help but notice how bored you look. And nobody should be bored in Vegas. You come here to forget your troubles or let loose...and after you leave, the party's over. So have some fun while you still can. Preferably with me."

He leaned across the table that separated them as he spoke, and the closer he became, the more she was torn on how to react to the situation. Her first thought was to politely tell him to fuck off and then leave the booth in search of her best friend. But that was what she would normally do, and for once, she wanted to do the opposite. Regular Clarke was all rules, principles, and schedules...Vegas Clarke wanted to let her hair down _(figuratively because it was already literally down)_ and this handsome stranger was offering her that. Before she could reply, he continued on. "How about I get you a drink? You look like you could use one."

Thinking it over, she answered honestly. "I could use more than one."

He stood up from the booth and Clarke tried not to notice how his muscles rippled under the soft material of his sport coat, but failed spectacularly. "Then have more than one, you deserve it."

Clarke agreed, deciding right then to see how this would play out. "Yeah, okay." She stood up and noticed their height difference for the first time. There was something thrilling in the fact that he was taller than her. Clarke Griffin had never felt small before in her life, she was five feet and five inches of sheer _bigness_. She had a big personality, big sense of morality, and big leadership mentality.

"My name's Bellamy by the way, Bellamy Blake." He held out his hand for her to shake and smiled widely.

"Clarke Griffin." She extended her own hand in greeting, unable to stop herself from smiling back at him as she felt an actual spark travel up from their joined hands.

"Nice to meet you, princess. Now if we're done with the pleasantries, I'd like to escort you to the bar." Seeing her confused expression, Bellamy pointed to her head, to the plastic tiara she had forgotten that she was wearing. It was given to her earlier in the night by a group of girls celebrating their twenty-first birthday; she and Raven had met them at dinner. At her nod, Bellamy's hand fell to the small of her back as they pushed their way through the mass of gyrating bodies on the dance floor to get to the bar.

* * *

As they found an empty space up at the bar, a bartender approached them. A tall girl with pale skin and brown hair, she made a beeline in Bellamy's direction as she spotted them, as if Clarke wasn't even there. "What can I get for you?" She leaned over the bar to hear his reply.

"Two shots of tequila...make it Patrón," Bellamy replied. Then his voice lowered as he flirted with the girl, "do they call you Fox because you're foxy?" referring to the name tag that was pinned to the front of her shirt. Letting out a girlish giggle of delight, the bartender turned away to pour their drinks with a blush reddening her face.

"So do lines like that usually work?" Clarke asked him, genuinely curious.

"Jealous, princess?" He accused, turning to face her with that maddening smirk.

"In your dreams, Blake." Clarke folded her arms across her chest in retort, inadvertently pushing her boobs up in the process.

"Every night," Bellamy pledged, dramatically placing a hand over his heart, as his eyes drifted down to her cleavage. Realizing the effect her stance was having on her chest, Clarke uncrossed her arms and watched as his gaze returned back to her face.

"Well if they don't work, I tell them I'm a police officer. Chicks dig a man in a uniform." He sent her a cheeky grin as he rested one elbow on the counter of the bar.

"You're a cop?" Clarke was taken off guard by his profession. There was something inherently dangerous about Bellamy Blake, it seemed like he could very easily be on the opposite side of the law instead of enforcing it.

"A homicide detective." Bellamy specified, his voice taking on a tone of pride.

"Impressive." Clarke leaned back against the bar, facing Bellamy who was less than a foot away from her.

"What about you, what do you do?" Bellamy asked, his minty breath fanning across her face at their close distance.

"I'm a resident at a hospital," Clarke stated with confidence.

"A doctor?" He moved impossibly closer, and her senses were flooded by his scent. An intoxicating mix of a musky cologne combined with a sweet whiskey, Clarke found herself drawn to him.

"General surgeon," she amended with a smile. Fox the bartender chose that moment to return with their drinks and Bellamy grabbed Clarke's hand, licking the apex of her index finger and thumb. She gasped in shock as his tongue made contact with her heated skin.

"What the fuck, Bellamy?" She tried to pull her hand away as he sprinkled salt onto the wet skin. He handed her a shot and a lime.

"Lick it, slam it, and suck it," Bellamy whispered, his lips mere centimeters from her ear. His warm breath made goose bumps emerge on her skin and sent a shiver down her spine. She licked the salt from her hand, slammed the burning shot, and sucked the lime into her mouth.

Bellamy did the same and then sent her a wicked grin. "Wanna dance, princess?"

* * *

An old friend that she had come to know well during her undergrad years, known as a hangover, greeted Clarke the next morning. Her head pounded and her mouth was dry, as she looked around the unfamiliar hotel room she had found herself in. Rays of sunlight streamed in through the curtains, and she became very aware of the fact that she was completely naked underneath the sheets. There was also a sweet soreness in between her thighs that she associated with a night filled with amazing sex. So, she had been a bit reckless last night and slept with a stranger, oh well...she hadn't had a one-night stand since medical school, but she was in Sin City and Raven would be proud of the fact that she had finally gotten laid for the first time since Finn. She stood up from the bed and grabbed her lace panties from where they had been thrown atop a lamp in the corner, sliding her underwear back on and slipping her dress over her head. She was running her fingers through her curls, trying to add some order to the tangled mess of sex hair she was currently rocking, when she noticed something unusual. A gold ring sat on her ring finger on her left hand, a ring that featured a row of hearts banded together. Her body went cold when it hit her, and all she could hear was the loud pumping of her heartbeat as she tried not to panic. Image after image flooded her mind from the night before...dancing with Bellamy and doing more shots...meeting his friend Murphy who was a total douchebag...finding Raven attempting to perform a striptease on top of the bar...the four of them riding in a limo to another club...playing roulette at a casino...singing karaoke off-key at a western bar...Bellamy proposing to her in front of a fountain and putting a vending machine ring on her finger...wearing a short veil and fake pearls to walk down the aisle at a tacky wedding chapel...and hurrying back to his hotel room after the ceremony in a frenzy of tangled limbs and urgent kisses. Channeling the composure she used to deal with trauma in the hospital, Clarke looked around the room and spotted a note stuck to the bedside table that she had apparently missed earlier in her hangover haze.

_Hey princess—_

_Come to the buffet downstairs. We need to talk._

_Bellamy_

Damn straight, they needed to talk and as soon as possible. She obviously needed to get a lawyer and divorce papers filed. But for right now, the first person she was going to see was Raven. So Clarke exited the hotel room with purpose, her heels in one hand and what was left of her dignity in the other.


	4. Oops! I pulled a Britney

**DISCLAIMER**: I neither own _The 100_ nor the characters. They are the property of Jason Rothenberg and The CW. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!

**A/N**: To any new readers, welcome! Thanks for joining the party. This is random but y'all should know, I'm proud of this title. After all, Britney's 55 hour-long Vegas marriage is iconic. [Britney Spears voice] "It's Bellarke, bitch."

* * *

**Waking Up in Vegas**

**Chapter Four: Oops! I pulled a Britney**

* * *

"Whoomp! There it is!" Raven exclaimed, letting out an unladylike snort at the sight of her wedding ring.

"Raven Reyes, this is no laughing matter," Clarke scolded, yanking her left hand from her friend's grasp.

"Oh come on, Clarke. You've got to admit, it's kind of hilarious. You're Clarke Griffin, you write a pros and cons list for every decision you make. If one of us were going to get hitched in Vegas, you'd think it would be me. I'm the wild child, the product of an alcoholic, you're the one who constantly has it together all the time." Raven burst out laughing, with tears pooling in her eyes from her mirth.

"Well, I'm glad my joke of a marriage entertains you," Clarke snapped, turning around to head to the elevator. She would have to face her 'husband' eventually, might as well be now.

"Wait, Clarke. Hold up!" Raven ran after her, the door to their hotel room banging shut behind her. "I'm sorry, my bad...it's just not everyday that a girl's bestie gets married in Vegas. And if it makes you feel any better, I drunk dialed Wick and made out with _your husband_'s asshole friend Murphy last night."

The elevator doors closed as Clarke pressed the button for the casino and held onto the railing as it descended, visibly cringing at what Raven was telling her.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I called him Finn too," Raven continued on, stuffing both of her hands into the pockets of her zip-up hoodie. "Do you feel better now?" She turned to face Clarke, leaning back against the wall of the elevator.

"It's helping," Clarke admitted, fighting a smile.

"Just look on the bright side, your hubby is seriously hot. Also, how was the wedding night? Is married sex better than regular sex?"

Clarke groaned loudly, covering Raven's mouth with her hand. "Please stop talking."

Removing Clarke's hand from her mouth, Raven was quick to respond back. "Don't sass me, Ms. Griffin! Or should I say, _Mrs. Blake_?"

* * *

"Dude, why are you wearing all black?" Bellamy questioned Murphy as he slid his tray along the breakfast buffet, taking note of the latter man's outfit of black jeans and a black tee.

"Because I'm in mourning. You're married now, who's going to be my wingman?" Murphy stated with exaggerated woe as he piled scrambled eggs and shredded hash browns on his plate.

"I'll always be your wingman. You're Iceman, I'm Maverick." Bellamy put out his fist with a smirk and Murphy bumped it with his own. "Besides, we're going to get a quickie divorce." Bellamy shrugged nonchalantly and ate a strip of bacon as he drizzled syrup over his pancakes.

"What if she wants to stay married to your sorry ass?" Murphy asked, pouring himself some orange juice and taking a sip of the full glass.

"No fucking way. The princess is probably having the papers drawn up now. I'm not husband material, especially hers. The guy she dreams about marrying is the kind of guy you and I make fun of," Bellamy pointed out, adding cream and sugar to his mug of steaming coffee.

"Good point, plus I don't think you even know how to be in a relationship." Murphy walked alongside Bellamy as they made their way towards an empty table. Placing his tray down before taking a seat, he belatedly added, "no offense."

Pulling out his own chair to sit next to him, Bellamy chuckled. "None taken, man. I pride myself on that fact." Cutting his pancakes into pieces with a knife and fork, Bellamy turned to Murphy with a look of curiosity. "So where the hell did you go last night?"

In the process of shoveling hash browns into his mouth, there was a beat of silence as Murphy chewed before answering. "I have no clue. I can't remember shit past _your wedding_. I woke up this morning on a red carpet somewhere, and I must have fallen into a pool last night, because I was soaked."

Bellamy laughed outright at that, but then grew quite very abruptly. Looking around for the cause of his friend's sudden change in demeanor, understanding hit Murphy as he spotted Clarke and Raven approaching from the distance. "Here comes your missus."

* * *

"Good morning," Clarke put on a false cheeriness in her voice as she seated herself next to Bellamy.

"Morning." Raven sat down in the only available chair left at the table for four with a slight grimace, the atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable. Both Bellamy and Murphy mumbled greetings back, which were then followed by an awkward silence.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Bellamy?" Deciding to bite the metaphorical bullet, Clarke stood up from the table and held her purse out in front of her body as a shield of some sort.

"Yeah, of course princess."

After hearing his reply, Clarke stalked off towards the gaming area without a backward glance. The breakfast buffet took place just off the casino floor, and the sounds of slot machines being spun and coins hitting metal filled the place. There was a constant rhythm to Las Vegas, everything seemed to happen at a regular interval as dice are rolled, cards are dealt, and bets are placed. Swallowing the last remains of his coffee, Bellamy pushed back his chair and followed after his 'wife' with a grunt.

"Bellamy's my bro and he talks big game, but he's met his match," Murphy admitted as he turned towards Raven and took a swig of his orange juice.

Raven huffed in annoyance, reaching over and snatching some bacon off his plate. "What are we, friends now?"

* * *

Bellamy found Clarke standing in front of a slot machine that advertised a jackpot of two million dollars, looking relaxed in a casual dress and flip-flops. He watched from afar as she put a quarter in and pulled the lever, sighing and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Bellamy rolled the sleeves of the green and white plaid shirt he was wearing up his forearms, reading himself as if he were about to go into battle. Strolling up to Clarke with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans and his usual smirk in place, he stood next to her as she turned to face him. The princess exuded a quiet confidence, but there was a nervous tension in her body that was obvious in the way that she bit her bottom lip and twirled her wedding ring with her thumb.

"So this is going to be hard to say, but I'm just going to come out with it."

Before Bellamy could resume talking, Clarke cut in. "Whoa, wait a minute," she held up her left hand and his gaze was once again drawn to the gold band of hearts that took up residence on her ring finger, "are _you_ breaking up with _me_?" At his answering nod, she exhaled loudly in relief. "_I_ was coming down here to dump _you_!"

He smiled in return, "so we're good?"

Clarke grinned at the prospect of putting the whole ordeal behind her, "couldn't be better."

Bellamy threw his hands up in exclamation. "Disaster averted. Bullet dodged. Pooch unscrewed."

Clarke gave him an unimpressed look. "Okay, I get it. You can stop now."

Bellamy had the decency to look bashful. "I'm sorry, princess. It's just that you're the type of girl who's looking for a serious relationship." At her incredulous expression, he continued on with his explanation. "You seem like a lot of work, you need like a team of guys and I'm not that kind of guy."

Affronted by his words, Clarke quickly snapped back. "What kind of guy is that, Bellamy? Mature? Stable? Financially secure? Or just not a _dick_?"

He propped one of his elbows up on the slot machine. "I was going to say boring...but whatever floats your boat, princess. And would you look at that? You had to come all the way to Vegas just to prove that you could still have fun."

Clarke let out a gasp of indignation and narrowed her eyes. "You don't even know me. And all you are is a big ego and a gun."

Leaning in close, his voice was salacious as he spoke lowly into her ear. "My ego's not the only thing that's big, princess." Bellamy took a step back from Clarke, after sending her a heated look that brought back memories of hungry mouths and wandering hands from the previous night. "You know what? I'll call you about the divorce," he said with a forced smile.

"Why don't you just," she pulled a business card out of her purse and slammed it against his chest with force, "email me."

Clarke stomped off in a huff and Bellamy actively tried not to notice how her hips swayed as she walked. Looking away, he spotted a quarter that she had left behind. He picked it up and raised it into the air with bravado.

"Hey princess," he called out, grabbing her attention and halting her rapidly retreating figure. "We'll always have Vegas," Bellamy declared with a sarcastic grin as he inserted the coin into the slot machine.

"That's my quarter!" Clarke yelled back in annoyance.

"What's yours is mine," Bellamy retorted as he pulled the lever and ambled off as the reels spun.

* * *

Whistles and bells filled the air, and Bellamy turned back to the slot machine to see that all three of the reels had landed on the jackpot symbol. A blur of motion entered his field of vision; Murphy tackled him in a hug.

"Dude, you just won two million fucking dollars! You lucky bastard," Murphy yelled as he thumped him on the back.

Jolted out of shock and back into reality, Bellamy looked around to find himself surrounded by flashing lights and applauding casino-goers. A cocktail waitress broke through the crowd and presented him with a bottle of champagne. Popping the cork in celebration, Bellamy held the bottle up to his lips and took a long drink, before passing the bubbly off to Murphy.

Fifteen feet away, Clarke was dumbfounded as she took in the view before her.

"What the fuck just happened?" Raven asked with wonder as she appeared next to Clarke, her presence breaking the stunned girl out of her trance.

"That was my quarter!" Clarke screamed, jumping up and down in excitement.

"Well go get your money and your man!" Raven gave her a shove in Bellamy's direction and rolled her eyes at the sight of a beaming Murphy with a showgirl on each arm.

Clarke took ahold of one side of the big check Bellamy held, triggering a tug of war between the two.

"What are you doing, princess?" Bellamy questioned out of the side of his mouth.

"It was my quarter," Clarke stated with a smile.

"Congratulations, you've tripled your investment." Bellamy handed her a one-dollar bill from his back pocket.

"But what's yours is mine, remember? We're married now, _baby_." Clarke spat the pet name with vitriol and held up her ring finger in a mocking salute.


	5. Unhappily Ever After

**DISCLAIMER**: I neither own _The 100_ nor the characters. They are the property of Jason Rothenberg and The CW. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!

**A/N**: Just to clarify, this story takes place in New York. Clarke lives in Manhattan, Bellamy lives in Brooklyn. The courtroom scene this chapter is probably inaccurate, just roll with it! Also, I know Bellarke would technically be getting an annulment, not a divorce, because they could claim they were under the influence of alcohol...but let's just pretend that they were sober enough to make informed consent.

* * *

**Waking Up in Vegas**

**Chapter Five: Unhappily Ever After**

* * *

Dante Wallace had been a New York Supreme Court justice for decades, maintaining the rule of law and upholding the Constitution for several fourteen-year terms. He originally had his sights set on the presidency, before finding his calling in the courtroom and was now seven years away from mandatory retirement. Justice Wallace was an older gentleman with white hair and dark blue eyes, which he utilized by fixing his piercing gaze on the couple currently seated before his bench.

"Young people these days...I don't like you. I don't like your generation with your Internet and your Vegas and your 'I want it right now' attitude. Marriage is about love and commitment."

The newlyweds glanced at each other from where they sat at two tables on opposite ends of the courtroom, their physical separation a representation of their emotional distance. Clarke wore a crisp, white blouse under a navy and white pinstripe jacket with a matching pencil skirt and a pair of nude heels. She exuded professionalism with her blonde locks pulled back in a half-up/half-down style and light makeup. Bellamy was dressed smartly as well in a sharp, black suit with a red dress shirt and dark tie. His normally unruly hair was gelled back attractively, drawing attention to his strong face and high cheekbones. Raven was perched primly with her legs crossed in a pew directly behind Clarke, her presence a display of moral support and encouragement. She looked across the room and sent Murphy a dirty look; he kept making faces at her when the judge wasn't looking from where he was sprawled in the pew behind Bellamy.

"Before I let either of you out of this marriage, I'm going to make sure you try absolutely everything first to make it work." Justice Wallace had seen many things during his time on the bench, but he was above all else an old soul with traditional values living in a modern world.

"Objection!" Clarke called out, wobbling slightly in her heels as she quickly stood in defiance of the judge's ruling.

"Objection, Your Honor. You can't do that." Bellamy joined in her outrage, his chair scraping against the floor as he arose.

"Watch me." Justice Wallace threatened, his expression serious and statement direct. "I am freezing the two million dollars for the next six months and sentencing you both to six months of _hard marriage. _I want you to live together as a married couple, but you can decide amongst yourselves where the hearth will be in which to build your home. And so I can be assured that you're actively working on your marriage, I'm ordering you into weekly marital counseling."

Clarke and Bellamy sat back down in their respective chairs simultaneously, properly chastised and stunned by the turn of events.

"If you don't adhere to all aspects of my ruling, I am going to tie this money up into litigation so extensive and expensive that neither one of you will ever see a cent of it," he promised before briefly glancing down at his docket for the day, "alright, anything else?"

"Oh, I almost forgot! I now pronounce you husband and wife." Justice Wallace smiled wickedly and brought down his gavel on its sound block with force, prompting the freshly minted Mr. and Mrs. Blake to jump at the loud noise.

* * *

Bellamy stood in front of a drinking fountain in the courthouse; he took a sip from the stream and splashed some water on his face to cool down his heated skin. "Can he even do that?" He asked Murphy in disbelief, walking in a daze towards the front of the building as his friend trailed along behind him.

"He's a judge. He can do whatever he wants." Murphy gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and pushed open the door to exit.

Bellamy followed him outside and pulled off his tie, which had begun to feel like a noose around his neck. He gave a cursory glance over those loitering on the steps, finding his gaze drawn to the alluring form of his new wife in a tight skirt. Before he even registered his movements, Bellamy was striding in her and Raven's direction, but was soon halted by Murphy's hand on his arm.

"Just remember to keep your eyes on the prize, dude...seven figures."

* * *

Clarke rushed down the front steps outside The New York County Courthouse, her heels clicking out a hurried staccato on the concrete as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. Raven ran after her, struggling to catch up to her panicked friend.

Turning to face Raven, Clarke anxiously wrung her hands together. "What the hell just happened? I can't do this."

Raven grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a firm shake. "Snap out of it, Clarke! You've got this. If you do what the judge says, you can get a divorce and then you split the money equally as marital property."

Nodding along in agreement with Raven's logical reasoning, Clarke turned to see Bellamy and Murphy walking towards them from the other side of the steps.

* * *

"You sure you can handle this, princess? Six months of me?" Bellamy challenged Clarke, getting in her personal space and throwing down the gauntlet.

"Oh I'm sure, Bellamy. I just worry about you...how will you cope with having to see a girl for more than one night?" Clarke countered, refusing to back down, she matched his movements and moved even closer to him.

"Brave princess." He smirked at her comeback, impressed and a little turned on by her fire.

Sensing the sexual tension building between the couple, Raven cleared her throat and Murphy spoke loudly, interrupting their silent battle of wills. "So it's settled then. Let's just think of this as a business arrangement. You're married for six months, you get one million dollars."

Bellamy and Clarke reluctantly shook hands in agreement before storming off in opposite directions.


End file.
